


At Last

by Shiverslightly



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Blow Jobs, But Only a Little Bit - Freeform, Captain Shiro (Voltron), Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Husbands, M/M, Overworking, POV Keith (Voltron), Porn Watching, Porn With Plot, Post-Canon, Season 8 Doesn't Exist, Smut, Voyeurism, brief suggestion of somnophilia, but not as scary, coronavirus like pandemic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23434915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiverslightly/pseuds/Shiverslightly
Summary: Keith works the frontlines as an unknown virus overtakes New Daibazaal. He’s tired and beaten and so worn down he doesn’t even notice that his husband’s been left wanting. But when he does, he’s more than willing to make up for it.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 176





	At Last

**Author's Note:**

> This is how I cope! Please know that the virus mentioned in this fic is not as bad as COVID-19, it just makes the Galra really sick.

Keith flashes into the entrance of his home with Kosmo by his side, both their heads lolling as the world spins to right itself.

“Keith? Is that you?” Shiro’s voice drifts from the direction of the living room — quiet, calm — the exact opposite of literally every interaction he’s had today. 

With a rasp, Keith grunts in response, probably too worn for Shiro to hear, but he’s already rounding the corner when his face scrunches up in mild alarm.

“Whoa!”

A rush of wind brushes the matted hair from Keith’s forehead and Shiro’s grabbing his waist before he can blink, Keith not realizing he’d started to sway with the removal of his wrappings. These days, the outer layers of his senior Blade uniform feeling more like a straight jacket than a badge of honour.

“I’ve got you,” Shiro says, gentle hands helping to disrobe him so carefully that Keith surrenders to it. Shiro’s solid weight a pillar he’s sorely been missing.

Exhaustion pours from him in waves, so finely etched into every strand of aching muscle that even the wolf slips behind them to keep Keith from falling. His eyes slip closed, their sockets screaming in agony. In front of him, Shiro tuts. Soft clicks of his tongue that Keith doesn’t think he’s meant to hear while his husband takes stock of his weathered body. 

Kolivan thinks that the worst is still to come. That the virus currently spreading like wildfire from Galra to Galra has only just started. Half the Blades have already been compromised and Keith’s mixed heritage is an unknown risk, but he can’t leave what’s remaining to face this alone. There’s too many sick, too many in need, and the infrastructure of their aid still lacking. That he managed to keep Shiro on lockdown is a miracle, his brave, selfless partner as reckless as he is. Thankfully Krolia’s “suggestion” that Shiro’s skills as Captain of the Atlas would best serve Blade Command had left little room for argument. And for Keith, it gives him another reason to relish coming home.

Their house is bright and warm, a stark contrast to the harsh environment he’s been working in for the past eleven hours. It seeps through the fabric Shiro sheds for him. His toes and fingers too swollen and stiff to do much but stand there. He does this every night. Diligently taking care of Keith though he must be exhausted himself. It can’t be easy managing the Blades and the hundreds of outside shipments and supplies being sent to them. New Diabazaal is under quarantine. Nothing leaves or enters the planet without Shiro’s consent. Nothing happens period, without his knowledge.

A hot hand grabs Keith’s wrist and pulls him, along with his thoughts, through the house. Shiro hefting his arm around his shoulders and practically dragging. Quiet jazz plays in the background, softened lights splashing the island in the middle of their kitchen where Shiro leans him against. Kosmo goes off in search of his dinner.

“Are you hungry?” Shiro asks, leaving to rummage through the fridge. “I saved you some food.”

Keith struggles just to open his eyes. The dulcet tones of the music bleeding tension from his back. Instead of voicing a yes, he hums his assent. Nodding his head that suddenly feels a thousand pounds heavy. Then he’s tipping forward and his elbows are slipping. His head connects with the counter before he can stop it and… _“Fuck.”_

He’s still so numb that the pain in his face is more of a dull current beneath his skin and Shiro’s distracted when he asks, “What’s that?” But it only takes a moment to hear his shocked, “oh!”

Fingers graze Keith’s jaw and roll his head into a large, warm palm. All Keith wants is to press his lips to the meat of it and drift away but he knows Shiro deserves so much better than that. With great effort, Keith cracks open an eye, finding Shiro’s own soft and lined with sympathy.

“Baby,” Shiro croons, knowing how it makes Keith melt. He hesitates for a second, like maybe he wants to comment on Keith running himself ragged — as if that isn’t a blatant example of the pot calling the kettle black — but instead, his mouth ticks up and he asks, “Do you want to eat in the shower again?”

Keith blinks, and Shiro’s grin turns wider. If the comment didn’t bring out his husband’s sweet laugh lines, Keith might’ve had it in him to get snarky. _One time_ Shiro catches him eating toast in their shower — _out_ of the water's reach, thank you very much — and he still never hears the end of it.

“Dick,” Keith mumbles instead and Shiro tries but fails to stifle his laughter.

“Come on then,” Shiro says, overly fond, “open up.” 

With a fork poised and ready, Shiro waits for Keith to pick himself up. Dramatically, Keith groans and sits on the stool beside him as the Diabazaal version of chicken and rice gets shovelled into his mouth. Honestly, eating is the last thing he wants to do, Shiro knows it too if the encouraging smile he’s giving Keith is any indication. A senior member of the Blade of Marmora being fed like a toddler isn’t exactly dignified either. Six years of calling Shiro his own and he’s still a glutton for his attention and probably always will be. So he opens for more and obediently swallows everything Shiro gives him. Etta James’ song of a love returned home flowing beautifully into their silence.

When the plate is scraped clean and Keith licks his lips, Shiro cups his face again. Warmth spreading as he looks his fill and stares into Keith’s eyes as though he could pull the exhaustion straight into himself. Love and gratitude bloom from Keith’s heart in a starburst of energy that’s cosmic and glowing as he feels Shiro’s strength like a physical thing.

Shiro’s palms slide down along Keith’s sides and he almost mourns their loss on his face but they grip his waist and Shiro leans over to whisper, “Time for a shower?”

Keith hums again, Shiro’s close proximity, the comfort that comes with it, too good to pass up. He lifts his face and nuzzles into Shiro’s neck, tucking himself in the curve of jaw and shoulder. Shiro smells so clean, so _safe,_ nothing like the makeshift care units he’s been bringing supplies to. Keith noses up behind his ear, brushes his lips along prickly stubble. He feels the vibration of Shiro’s sigh beneath the hand that bunches over his heart.

That cosmic energy pools a little lower, Keith pressing his lips against Shiro’s throat and lingering. Wet breath heating where he nips a bite then soothes it with his mouth. Shiro groans and his hands tighten for the briefest of seconds before he tries to draw back.

“Baby,” he admonishes, “shower.”

Keith burrows closer, shaking his head. “Mm-mm.”

“Keith,” Shiro tries again, this time with more authority but still so soft. “You can’t even keep your head up.”

Before Keith can even begin to protest, the bastard drops his shoulder and Keith pitches forward with a startled yelp that cuts as soon as Shiro’s big hand catches him moments before smashing his face on the counter. Again.

Shiro laughs as Keith whacks him indignantly, the rush to his head lessening his usual bruising hits. He’s so pathetically tired that even that small amount of effort has Keith sagging into Shiro’s hold until the man has no choice but to lift him but if Shiro wants him to shower then _he_ can do all the work. Which turns out not to be the punishment Keith was hoping for because Shiro hefts him up into steady arms without hesitation and looks entirely too pleased as he carries him bridal style up the stairs and to their bathroom.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Keith grumps as he’s stripped and pushed beneath the shower’s spray, the scalding heat set to his optimum temperature.

Shiro smiles at him, not teasing like Keith, but way too earnest when he says, “I know,” and drops a kiss to Keith’s damp cheek before closing the glass door behind him. Keith’s a little disappointed he doesn’t stay to wash his hair but he’d never admit to it openly. Because Keith’s an adult and Shiro’s already a saint and if he doesn’t condition that’s really on Shiro for not letting him buy the two-in-one shampoo/conditioner he grew up with.

There is, however, their fluffiest towel _and_ his husband waiting for him when he shuts off the water and steps out. Shiro murmurs a song underneath his breath as he runs it over Keith’s body. He’s thorough yet gentle, a Shiro standard really, at least when it comes to Keith. It’s almost a shame that they’ve quarantined him in the house when he could be out there with Keith helping the sick. 

Slowly, Keith peeks at Shiro from beneath the towel. “Will you come to bed with me?”

He doesn’t mean to sound so needy, but the thought of nesting under their comforter with Shiro’s perfectly pillowed pecs as his resting place is something he’s been dreaming about since he last crawled out of bed.

The time on the clock still says it’s early and Shiro’s always been a night owl, unknown virus aside. Keith zeros in on the way Shiro bites his lip, dark crescents blooming beneath each tooth before they scrape away. He knows if he pushes it Shiro will come.

“I should really make some more calls. A whole fleet of equipment has been detained and we need to get ahead of this development—”

“S’okay,” Keith quickly concedes, patting Shiro’s chest. There’s turmoil in those slate-grey eyes so he forces a smile despite his exhaustion. “Just, don’t stay up too late?”

Shiro gathers him into his arms, pressing them tight together and combing his fingers through the knots of Keith’s hair. “I’ll try baby.”

He leads Keith to the bedroom like a slow-moving wall, firmly stable as Keith practically leans his entire self against him. His rock, his foundation. _His._

Keith would like to say that after Shiro tucked him in all nice and tight he took the time to thank him and tell him how much he loves him, but he can’t because Keith is gone the moment his head hits the pillow. He doesn’t even twitch when Shiro sits beside him and carefully braids the hair that reaches Keith’s back so he doesn’t wake up with a tangled nest. Nor does he whisper back when Shiro says a soft, “good night,” and quietly shuts the door.

* * *

He wakes sometime later, hazy and warm. The darkness pressing in with a heavy stillness. No sounds through the window, their bedroom door closed. Beads of sweat have formed at his temples and he’s wrapped in blankets so tight that it takes him a while to figure out he’s alone. Shiro not found behind the mountain of quilts when he searches for him. Keith throws back the covers and slips from the room. It’d be hypocritical of him to lecture Shiro but that doesn’t mean he can’t try and coax him to bed.

Years of training have made Keith’s footsteps silent. He doesn’t mean to “stalk around the house” as Lance likes to call it and when it’s just the two of them Shiro always knows that he’s coming anyway. He takes the stairs slowly, still a lot groggy, this time Shiro deaf to his noise because he sits on the couch with his back to the stairs and doesn’t even move but for a tremor in his shoulders. Keith decides to hang back. Using this rare moment to admire the man he fell in love with when he was only sixteen.

The cloudy fuzz of his sleep-deprived brain makes Shiro look even prettier than normal, almost ethereal as he sits in the dark. He’s so broad and stacked. Maybe even larger than he was during their time with Voltron. Obviously, Keith’s grown too, no longer a skinny teenager, but Shiro’s body has honed itself into the kind of built that Keith’s been getting off to ever since he was that teenager. Shiro’s sharp jaw and strong brow capped with a stunning head of white hair. Most days it’s all Keith can do not to jump him every chance that he gets. And don’t even get him started on Shiro’s stubble and body hair.

Light from Shiro’s holopad reflects off the floof of his hair and he huffs like maybe he’s heard Keith’s thoughts but then he groans deep from his throat and slides down the couch. Dropping his weight enough to reveal his screen and Keith goes utterly still.

His breath leaves him, his eyes go wide and it’s a miracle he doesn’t squeak because—

Shiro is watching _porn._

Like, honest to god, two people just fucking going at it, full-blown Earth porn.

Instant heat flares through Keith, he didn’t even know Shiro was into that, and suddenly all the sounds around him blare to life. The quiet rustle of Shiro’s arm, now so clearly jerking. The tinny moans coming from his holopad. The sigh Shiro tries to bite in half, presumably to keep it down. Carefully, Keith inches closer, watching the screen to see what Shiro‘s into.

It’s not half bad, the two men fucking hard on screen. A tall, dominating man has this pretty looking sub bent over a table. Keith thinks he a dom anyway because his legs are covered in leather chaps and his dick is fucking huge. It doesn’t help that the boy he’s plowing into has his hands cuffed behind his back and a leather collar attached to a leash round his neck either. They’re fucking in a high rise, right in front of a bay of windows where anyone could see. The actors are even quite good, not overdoing it. Mostly just moans and quiet cries accentuating the slap of skin on skin. Their dirty talk kept to simple phrases like _fuck, yeah_ and _please daddy, harder._

Keith’s interested at least, the bleariness in his eyes clearing as a large hand hefts the boy’s leg onto the table, a broken cry blaring through the speakers. Which is why Keith doesn’t understand why Shiro’s shoulders look so tense.

His arm’s working at a pace so furious it usually means he’s oh so close but the noises he’s making are all wrong. They’re too short, too clipped. Tight little grunts Keith rarely hears when he’s the one doing the touching.

Creeping closer, Keith peers around Shiro’s body, trying to get a better view. Shiro heaves and speeds his hand and when his thick length comes into focus it’s definitely hard and _aching._ Large veins on prominent display and curving up to touch his stomach. The head flushed a deep magenta and looking almost painful. Sweat glistens over exposed abdominals, Shiro’s shirt tucked out of the way and compact ridges showing off each pack. Shiro’s lips are thin and blanched, the tendons in his neck swollen. The couple on screen fuck faster and harder, but the longer it goes on, the slower Shiro’s jerking gets. All the way until his hips are stilling and he growls in frustration.

Shiro stops the video with the hand that’d been pinching his nipples. Red puffy buds left to pulse in damage. Keith watches as he swipes out of the video completely, stalling just a moment before chuffing a breath and pulling up a folder of private photos. His fingers fly across the screen and though Keith should probably speak up now, he only gets closer and wonders if half of Shiro’s pad is actually packed with pornography.

It’s not. Mostly it’s just pictures he’s collected from diplomatic meetings in foreign places. A lot of Keith and Kosmo playing and when he stops, the screen is filled with pictures from their honeymoon. Two blissful weeks of surf and isolation when they travelled to the Ucoth system and found an uninhabited planet of paradise. But why Shiro would stop here, Keith has no idea.

All it is is photos of them — mostly just Keith — and mostly just relaxing on the beach of a serene alcove they found on day three. Photos like the sun kissing Keith’s shoulders as he swims in the waves. Another of sand covering his torso as he climbs a vine like a rope in gym class. Or a close up one in the shade of Shiro’s shadow while he lies in the surf, smiling and reaching out. On the couch in front of him, Shiro’s shoulders start to relax, the beginnings of a grin tugging his mouth as he scrolls through picture after picture.

He’s still stroking himself too, absently gliding over the length Keith has long since memorized. Keith finds himself stuck between reliving memories on Shiro’s screen and watching how he plays with himself. His frantic jerking now calmed to more of a tease. He’s almost languid with it, patient. Long, drawn-out passes pulling gasps as he still tries to keep it quiet. 

At the time, Keith had been annoyed with all the pictures Shiro took. Constantly asking him to pose with the jungle in the background or take a selfie at the top of a waterfall. Seeing how Shiro’s face lights up, how his smile’s so soft and wondering, it doesn’t seem so pointless now. At least until Shiro gets to a certain set of photos that Keith had forgotten about but makes his cheeks burn hot. The lighting is terrible, parts of him too bright and other parts too dark. They’re even a little blurry but it’s unmistakably him. And he is unmistakably naked.

Keith groans in his head just as Shiro groans out loud, though his is decidedly more filthy than Keith’s. He’d just been goofing around, having come back from the beach in his shorts and nothing more and when Shiro had snapped a pic of Keith undressing he’d decided to play it up a little. Ridiculously arching his back and pulling the shorts until the swell of his ass was showing. Shiro lingers on that one first. His fist tightening around his cock as the other hand drifts back to his chest. He bites his lip and swipes to the next, Keith’s shorts down beneath his glutes and a hand pushing back the hair in his eyes. Shiro moans beneath his breath, fingers plucking at himself.

The next one has the shorts gone and Keith turned front and center. He’s cupping himself and staring at the camera with large doe eyes, teeth tucking over his bottom lip. When Shiro groans, his strokes turn more purposeful. He twists his wrist and his breath starts to come faster. Keith’s even closer to the camera on the next shot, a hand reached out like he’s beckoning Shiro and a smirk on his face that’s as hard to miss as the half chub he’s sporting. Shiro reacts to that one best. Jerking faster and sighing Keith’s name on the edge of a whimper.

It hits Keith then how ludicrous this is. Shiro jerking off to grainy photos of Keith messing around rather than the quality porn he’s pretty sure Shiro paid for. Like the image of that pornstar’s massive cock splitting apart his obedient pet hadn’t been enough. Like he’d wanted, no needed, _Keith_ to finish the job.

How long has Shiro been waiting? How many nights has this selfless man let Keith fall asleep before finally resorting to this? He looks pretty desperate now. On to a photo of Shiro’s hand trailing Keith’s stomach and panting so hard that his chest’s turning red.

And here Keith is, still watching and not _doing._

He clears his throat. “You know,” Keith says, starting like every bad porno Shiro’s probably watched. “If you wanted a hand, you should’ve just asked.”

Like lightning, Shiro’s head whips back, he drops his pad and the squawk that comes out of him is high and choked.

“K-keith!”

He scrambles where he sits, yanking up his pants like it might hide anything that he’s been doing. He tents them so spectacularly it makes Keith’s mouth water. He knows what it's like beneath that. Saw how slick it had gotten before he spoke up.

But Shiro’s eyes are large and his face is horrified. His whole body flushing darker than it’d been when he burnt that first day on their honeymoon. Keith chuckles though he probably shouldn’t, leaning over the back of the couch.

“You should’ve just come to bed, I was right there.”

Shiro’s mouth works. Little actually comes out. “That wasn’t — I-I wasn’t—”

Keith raises an eyebrow, nodding down to the wet spot now smearing through Shiro’s strained joggers. Thickly, Shiro swallows, vainly trying to cover himself with his larger, prosthetic hand.

“Shiro,” Keith sighs, finally coming around to sit down next to him. He lays his hand on Shiro’s knee and doesn’t fault him for flinching a bit at the contact. “Why didn’t you just wake me?”

Shoulders drooping, Shiro curls in, resignedly blowing his breath. “I couldn’t do that. You’ve been so exhausted and I….” He waves a feeble hand. “I thought I could just take care of it quickly.”

Before he can stop it, Keith snorts and Shiro sends him a warning glare like he’s barely holding on here. Keith thinks maybe it’s time to switch tracks.

“Well that’s a shame,” he says, letting his voice drop and leaning over. “It was pretty hot watching you _‘take care of it.’_ ”

Shiro eyes him warily, cheeks still pink. “Uh-huh.”

Licking his lips, Keith lifts a hand and drags his fingers, featherlight, down Shiro’s chest. “Kind of not fair, really. You keeping this all to yourself.”

He slowly lets his fingers trail, brushing them just at the band of Shiro’s sweats. Unconsciously, Shiro sucks in his stomach, creating an opening where Keith could slip right in.

“It’s late. Keith, you should be—”

“What? Sleeping?” He lets a finger dip inside, twisting it up to make space for more. “All by myself while you get yourself off?”

Probably without meaning to, Shiro folds a little closer, opening himself up to Keith’s attentions. His hand inching towards Keith across the couch.

Keith continues. “Maybe you’re not the only one in need of relief.”

As he says it, both of their eyes fall to his lap. The thin little boxers he wears to sleep not hiding how he stirs. Keith pushes his fingers beneath Shiro’s pants and scritches them over his wiry hair.

“That video you were watching before was also pretty hot.”

Shiro’s mouth drops, his eyes bugging out.

Keith smirks. “Why don’t you pull it back up?”

It takes a few seconds of Shiro just staring while his brain reboots, mentally realizing just how long Keith’s been watching. Keith uses the time to rub his hand down Shiro’s bare thigh, coaxing the big man to part his legs and make some room.

Shiro stares some more, then finally breathes, “Y-yeah?”

Leaning in tight, Keith whispers, “Yeah.”

Shiro searches for his holopad and Keith cups his balls, enjoying the way Shiro jolts along with his dick. Keith feels their weight, stroking his fingers down the seam. He runs his tongue over Shiro’s pulse and savours the salty taste of his sweat. When Shiro shifts back, Keith raises his head, the video up and running and held aloft in Shiro’s Altean arm.

The volume is louder now too. A wicked smack echoing through the pad as the dom spanks his wanton submissive. Shiro must have turned it up, no longer afraid of disturbing Keith’s sleep. Beside Shiro’s ear, Keith purrs in approval and takes Shiro’s hard, straining cock in his hand. So hot and swollen. _Large_ and hefty. Shiro gasps.

On screen, the one holding the leash jerks it hard, bending his boy until he has to rise up on to his toes. Hair falls in his face but there’s nothing he can do with his hands still bound.

“You know,” Keith muses, nipping at Shiro’s ear. “I think they kind of look like us.” 

They don’t really, except for the size difference. But Shiro still closes his eyes and groans, his permanent blush getting darker. Keith chuckles and squeezes as he strokes, just to make his husband squirm.

“Is that what you want to do to me?” he asks. “Tie me up and fuck me like that just out in the open?”

Shiro whines in the back of his throat, opening his eyes to watch. The couple on screen are pressed to the windows, reflection looking back at them with the boy's hands on the glass and his master's dick buried deep.

Shiro shudders in Keith’s grasp, unable to speak. The flush of desire so prominent on his face Keith knows it must be a fantasy of his.

“You could, you know. Of course you could.”

“K- _Keith.”_

There’s no way Shiro’s lasting much longer, not after working himself up so helplessly. It’s incredible to witness how Shiro melts. All his stress and frustration sloughing away now that Keith is there and stroking. He leans heavily against the couch, tilting his jaw so Keith can suck marks below his ear.

His cock’s so hard Keith wishes he’d prepped. Would just about kill to feel that whole thing fuck up into him. He bites a bruise to the side of Shiro’s neck and frees that big dick from Shiro’s sweats. Smoothing the wetness that leaks from its tip and fisting it tense and rapid. Shiro cries out and fucks his hips in a powerful thrust that almost knocks them off balance.

“Steady sweetheart.” Lifting his hands, Keith spits in his palms then wraps both of his fists around. “I’ve got you now.”

The slide after that is obscene. Even with both hands, the gorgeous crown of Shiro’s cock pierces through. Shiro drives into his fists like a man possessed, chasing his end and taking Keith along for the ride. He’s so fucking hot when he loses control. So fucking strong and forceful. The couch beneath them shakes on its legs and Keith’s legs might be too.

He’s leaned over the side of Shiro’s tight body, eyes down and completely enthralled. Shiro gathers the hair that’s fallen from his braid and yanks it back, keeping it piled above Keith’s head to watch him work. Keith spits again and twists his hands in opposing directions. Moves them in time with Shiro’s thrusts. Tightening his grip, he encourages Shiro to give him his best.

“C’mon Shiro. You’ve been waiting so long.” He lifts his eyes to stare into Shiro’s. “I want to see you come for me.”

And like the good fucking boy that Shiro is, come he does. With a ragged cry of Keith’s name on his lips and a full-bodied shudder that lasts for minutes. White come spurts from his cock in a steady stream that barely misses Keith and splashes all over his chest and stomach. Keith smacks his lips and leans over him, smearing his face as he laps at the come Shiro paints himself with.

“Oh, _fuck.”_ Shiro wavers in a heaving breath. _“Keith.”_

Keith licks his way across Shiro’s chest and down. Tonguing the come that dripped through his fingers and suckling it straight from the source. Groaning, Shiro tightens his hand still wrapped in Keith’s braid and stops him from sliding with a breathily over-sensitive, “ha.”

Much to his disappointment, Keith relents, still tasting the last of Shiro’s come when he’s yanked up and into a bruising kiss.

Shiro devours Keith whole. Body and soul. Shoving in his tongue and tasting himself in Keith’s mouth. Keith leans into it, tangling his hands around Shiro’s neck and holding on for dear life. Whimpering when Shiro bites at his mouth and paws at his hips. Shiro maneuvers them suddenly and it’s Keith with his back to the couch and Shiro pressing over. A hand grabs Keith’s jaw and pins him in place, giving him no reprieve from the relentless way Shiro stalls both his heart and his lungs.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers into Keith’s mouth. “You’re so good. So good to me.”

Before he can catch a breath or get a word in edgewise, Shiro slides down his body. Taking Keith’s briefs as he goes and springing free his mostly hard cock. Shiro eyes it like it’s supper, licking his lips and making them moist before they close around the head without any teasing. Keith curses above him and plumps up inside perfect wet heat. Dark eyes watching his every move.

His hands clench the cushions of their couch and touch Shiro’s holopad forgotten by the pillow. Pulling it out, Keith finds the boy now finished and on his knees, shining come splattered across the window behind him. His mouth is wide open and his eyes half-lidded as the man standing over him jerks his big cock.

Keith sucks in his abs and angles the pad so that Shiro can watch. His husband’s throat tightening and setting a wave of pulsing pleasure. Reaching forward, Keith brushes the hair that’s fallen into Shiro’s eyes, tangling his fingers into fine silver locks and pulling him closer, deeper. Gasping at the nails that dig in his thighs in response.

The man on screen is starting to swear, fist flying faster as the other sticks out his tongue and wiggles it. Together, Keith and Shiro watch as all it takes is two more strokes before the pornstar shoots his load over the waiting boy's face, looking for all the world like this is his greatest life pleasure.

Shiro’s groan shakes through his core, loud and wanting. Lips sliding until they’re wrapped in curls with hard, unyielding suction. Looking at Shiro, Keith sees his longing. Feels his thick, taut swallow.

“You want that too?” he asks, brushing the corner of Shiro’s sealed lips. “You want me to come all over you?”

All Shiro can do is blink his eyes, a deep sounding whine confirming. Keith holds his breath, dipping his thumb into Shiro’s hot mouth and tugging until a trail of pre come dribbles out.

_Shit._

His voice is shakier than he’d like when he taunts, “Think you can get me there, sweetheart?” 

He should know better than to issue a challenge with Shiro so fierce and worked up. The man on his knees pulls back just a little and wraps a hand under his mouth, two points of contact enveloping Keith’s cock and squeezing for all that they’re worth. Shiro jerks as he sucks, he twists while he licks. He covers Keith’s cock in mouth and hand and slicks him so thoroughly Keith can’t tell one from the other.

The grip. The suction. The way Shiro’s eyes flutter shut as he moans when he’s got Keith well past his larynx. He pulls off completely and strokes with his hand, mouthing down at Keith’s balls and sucking them in. Keith throws back his head and circles his hips. Whining out loud when he’s slurped right back down.

Shiro bobs in a rhythm that works with Keith’s grind. Swirling his tongue and cuffing his hand around Keith’s now pounding cock. It’s heaven, euphoric, and so, _so much_ that Keith swallows his tongue and tugs on Shiro’s hair to warn that he’s close.

“So perfect,” Keith gasps, taking himself in hand. “So fucking hot.”

Shiro opens his mouth and presents his tongue. Keeps his eyes on the cock that Keith smears over his lips. He thrusts along Shiro’s tongue and pulls out. Does it again and again while Shiro whines for his come.

“You want it?” Keith lifts his cock and drops it into Shiro’s mouth, smacking his tongue and loving the way Shiro’s eyes roll back.

God, when Shiro looks like that — so desperate, so needy — Keith would tear down the whole fucking world and everyone in it just to give Shiro what he wants.

“Open up sweetheart,” Keith breathes, hand flying and stomach tightening as he groans and shoots straight down Shiro’s throat.

His come flies as he pulses. Splashing across Shiro’s lips and his chin, up over his face and into his lashes. Keith makes a mess and can see Shiro loving every second.

When he’s well and done, and every last drop is spent, he gathers it up as best as he can and feeds it to Shiro who’s waiting. His eager mouth clamping down on Keith’s fingers and sucking his seed clean away. Soft tongue caressing the pads of each one. Sinful and debauched, Shiro looks like a dream.

There’s still plenty all over his face and eyes. Keith searches for his boxers when his hands are set free then diligently wipes his husband from head to stomach. Lighty, he tugs on Shiro arms and pulls him up till they’re both on the couch, Keith instantly flopping down on Shiro’s broad chest. Both of their hearts still racing.

“Holy shit,” he says. “I really did need that.”

Despite the late hour, despite the fact that they both need their rest, this was the best thing they could’ve done for each other. Keith feels a peace start to settle that he hasn’t felt for at least a week. A kind of contentment that’s hard to maintain in the fear of a global pandemic. Shiro hums in response and smooths his hand up and over Keith’s spine. Tracing soft little circles that call to mind patterns of two twin rings, like the Terran symbol for infinity.

There on the couch, in the dark and the quiet, Keith feels his limbs and his eyes grow heavy. He could float right away if he didn’t remember how all of this started.

“I can’t believe you watch porn and I didn’t even know it.” Something like a giggle bubbles from his chest and Shiro’s sigh is long and suffering.

“Would you believe me if I said that I don’t watch it often?”

Keith lifts his head to peer at Shiro’s face. It’s mostly obscured in shadows but he’s still the most beautiful thing that Keith’s ever seen. “Would you lie to me about it?”

Shiro shakes his head, bringing his fingers up to knead at the base of Keith’s skull. “No.”

Smiling then, Keith lays his face back on Shiro’s chest. “Then yeah, I believe you.”

“Good, ‘cause it didn’t work anyway,” Shiro huffs.

Keith’s smile stretches further and he doesn’t try hide it, thinking that he could just lie there forever, held in the cradle of Shiro’s safe arms. He’s just starting to drift when Shiro reaches around and picks him back up.

“S’okay,” he only slightly slurs in the jostle. “I can walk.”

Together they hit the stairs and Keith stays close enough to feel Shiro’s heat, their soft moulded shapes fitting easily together. If Keith were feeling cheesy, he might even say they were made for each other, but that’s not the truth. The truth is they learned one another, _grew into each other_. Like two types of ivy planted side by side, crawling ever closer until their roots entangled and their leaves became one.

It’s a romantic notion to think that there’s one person out there, perfect and waiting. One true match for everyone. Over the years though he’s realized that their true romance lies in staying and _wanting_ to figure it out. Deciding that Shiro is worth it. Knowing that he’ll always be. Shiro doesn’t have to say that he feels the same way because it’s there in every touch, every kiss. Every press of his body against Keith’s back as he cuddles up behind him when they get into bed.

Keith mumbles an _I love you_ and Shiro murmurs his too, the soft fall of moonlight shining in through their window. He burrows down and starts to get comfy, laying his palm over the hand Shiro’s placed at his heart. Slow, quiet breaths start to lull him to sleep and he presses back against Shiro to find a surprise.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro says and tries to shuffle away. “Guess I’m still a little worked up.”

Keith’s brain isn’t yet so far gone that he can’t respond but still it’s slurred. “Mmm, don’ be. S’hot.”

To further his point he wiggles back further, warmth engulfing and ass nuzzling into Shiro’s half-hard crotch. The arm around him tightens and he feels a soft twitch.

“If you keep that up, I won’t be able to stop myself,” Shiro whispers and Keith can just hear the way that he struggles.

“You could y’know,” Keith says, pressing just a bit harder.

“Babe, you’re already asleep.”

Keith hums, body heavy and sinking. “So?”

Shiro sucks in a breath as Keith’s permission dawns. “N-no, that’s something we should talk about… when you’re lucid.”

With a sigh, Keith leans himself back, hand slipping to rest over Shiro’s haunch, darkness closing in fast. He only has moments, just enough time to let Shiro know when it comes to him, he can have anything. “M’ answer’ll… be th’ same.”

 _“Fuck.”_ Shiro curses, clearly trying to gather himself. He pulls Keith to him and slips his hardening cock between Keith’s cheeks, grabbing tight to each side. “M-maybe just… like this tonight.”

Keith hums his assent and slips off to oblivion. A smile on his face and his husband’s slow grind against him.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/shiverslightly)!


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